


worth your weight in onyx

by galaxy_witch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Past Character Death, Shiro Birthday Exchange 2019, Slice of Life, implied/referenced PTSD, no actual death Shiro is just contemplating his existence ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_witch/pseuds/galaxy_witch
Summary: His birthday is an anomaly–a quadrennial divergence, made even more unusual now that he has beendeadonce. Realistically Shiro knows that playing god is the least of his worries, but he still struggles to reconcile with the idea that he was dead, and for whatever reason, the universe didn’t want him to stay that way.Now that Shiro gets to call Keith his, he won’t give up on reminding him, over and over, about thankful he is that Keith saved him–because his life isalwaysworth saving.





	worth your weight in onyx

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another fic for the Shiro birthday exchange!  
> Written for Mel (@that_meiko_girl_ on twitter - sorry I couldn't find your ao3 to gift this to you!) I hope you like it <3

Shiro has gotten accustomed to quiet mornings. 

They’re not a luxury he thought he could ever have–the warmth of early morning rays and the gentle rise and fall of Keith’s chest pressed against his back–all feeling that much sweeter when his sleep is uninterrupted by the nightmares, which are thankfully getting less frequent. Often, he and Keith both need to wake up early for meetings at the Garrison, and despite how hard it is to pull himself out of bed, the mornings are always comfortable when spent waking up in Keith’s arms. 

Thankfully, the morning of Shiro’s birthday is both quiet and workless. Shiro wakes up to the sight of Keith sprawled out on his back, taking up entirely too much of the bed, and mouth open with the smallest dribble of drool out the side of his mouth. Shiro can’t help but think he’s never been more in love. 

His birthday is an anomaly–a quadrennial divergence, made even more unusual now that he has been dead once. When the war was over and he settled back on earth as Captain of the Atlas and Galaxy Garrison instructor, he hadn’t bothered celebrating when his birthday came around. It was, in part, because of some residual guilt for contradicting whatever higher power decided that it was his time. Realistically Shiro knows that playing god is the least of his worries, but he still struggles to reconcile with the idea that he _was_ dead, and for whatever reason, the universe didn’t want him to _stay_ that way.

Upon arriving back on earth, he didn’t have anyone to spend his birthday with. He and Keith weren’t together yet, and he had been stationed on Daibazaal helping the revived planet rebuild. Sure, he received birthday messages from all of Voltron’s former paladins and the students and staff at the Garrison; Sam and Colleen Holt even stopped by his old apartment with cake, and they sat and caught up for a while. Despite the lonely first few years back on earth and his even lonelier birthdays, Keith had called him every year on the data pad and made sure to tell Shiro that his life was worth celebrating– and Shiro should have known then that it was only a matter of time before Keith would come back to him. 

Now that Shiro gets to call Keith his, he won’t give up on reminding Keith, over and over, about how thankful he is that Keith saved him–because his life is always worth saving. 

Uninterested in disturbing his sleeping boyfriend, Shiro sneaks out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen. Kosmo greets him at the end of the hallway, bumping his head into the palm of Shiro’s hand as he reaches out to pet him. He’s feeling too lazy for a morning run, and decides to wait for Keith to wake up so they can take Kosmo out for a jog together. 

In the meantime, he heads over to the coffee pot. He pulls the grinds out of the cupboard and fills the pot, anxiously awaiting his morning caffeine fix as he clicks the on-button. The light shines into the kitchen from the tiny window above the sink, and it hits his left hand in just the right spot, making the band on his ring finger shine in the early morning’s orange light.

The coffee soon begins to drip into the pot, and the smell of the fresh brew fills him with nostalgia over memories of watching his grandpa make his coffee in the morning when he was young.  

Distracted by his own thoughts, he doesn’t hear Keith approach behind him. Two arms wrap around Shiro’s waist–always unusually cold, but it never bothers Shiro because he runs unreasonably hot. Keith presses a kiss in between Shiro’s bare shoulder blades, and Shiro hums and leans back into him. 

“I thought you were still asleep.” 

“Mmm,” Keith responds, probably wishing he was. “Missed you.”

Keith presses another kiss to Shiro’s back and gently dances his fingers up and down Shiro’s sides. Shiro shivers at the cool pads against his skin and then turns in Keith’s grasp to embrace him properly. Shiro brings a hand up to cup Keith’s cheek, and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Morning, baby,” Shiro mumbles into Keith’s hair. Keith smiles lazily up at Shiro when he begins to pull away.

“Happy birthday, Shiro.” Keith follows Shiro’s lips and gives them a soft peck. “Go sit, I’ll finish your coffee.”

Shiro returns the brief kiss and obeys, turning to sit on a stool at their island counter. He watches Keith, back turned and focused on the coffee pot, and admires the way his muscles stretch and flex beneath the skin of his lean but muscular body. His hair has grown longer through the years, and it’s pulled back in an unkempt braid–which Shiro would offer to fix, but he knows that Keith is better at it.

Soon, Keith finishes up with the coffee and turns to join Shiro with two cups in hand. Shiro must have been caught staring, because Keith smiles at him and rolls his eyes. He places a mug in front of Shiro and then takes the seat next to him at the island.

They sip their coffee in comfortable silence for a few minutes.  They never feel pressured to put unnecessary words into the quiet little moment they share–although, Shiro does sneak a peek at Keith as they sit, and he seems to be lost in his own thoughts. Keith has only taken a few sips of his coffee, but he’s usually the first to finish and grab seconds from the pot. Shiro won’t pry, he knows that Keith will tell him about whatever’s on his mon when he’s ready, but he still worries.

Keith catches Shiro’s gaze and snaps out of his trance; he smiles at Shiro, warm and honest.

“Do you want breakfast?” Keith asks before taking another small sip of his coffee.

“Hm,” Shiro considers. “I was thinking we could take Kosmo for a jog first.”

Kosmo must have been listening, because Shiro hears the tapping of his paws against the hardwood floor behind him. He approaches the pair and butts his head against Keith, who greets him with scratches behind his ears.

“He’s getting so big–I feel like we’re the ones being walked when we take him out,” Keith jokes, and Kosmo starts leaving slobbery kisses on his forearm arm.

Shiro laughs and reaches out to brush a few metallic fingers through Kosmo’s fur.

“You’re not wrong,” Shiro says. Kosmo seems satisfied after a few more pats and scratches, and turns away in the direction of his favorite spot on the living room couch.

Shiro then takes the last few sips of his coffee and heads to the sink to rinse out his mug. He ultimately decides to leave the mug in the sink–it’s a problem for later.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” Shiro says, walking back over to Keith and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take your time, let me know when you’re ready.”

“Of course,” Keith replies, cradling his mug, which is becoming increasingly cooler. Shiro gives Keith’s shoulder a squeeze and heads back down the hall towards their bedroom.

When Keith finally came back from Daibazaal and the two finally admitted their long-felt feelings for each other, moving in together just felt like the most reasonable thing to do. Keith needed a place to stay, and Shiro himself was barely satisfied in his small one-bedroom apartment. They found a comfortable home just a few miles away from the Galaxy Garrison with enough space for the two of them and plenty of room for their oversized space dog. It should have been hard at first–living together should have taken some getting used to–but like always, they fell into each other with ease.

Shiro walks into their shared room and heads straight to the dresser, pulling out socks, a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. He gets dressed and then searches the top of the dresser for his watch. He has gotten into the habit of fitness tracking since retuning to earth, and he bought this watch to wear whenever he works out. Pidge and Allura are still enthusiastic about trying to install a small touch-screen into his robotic Altean arm for this purpose–but until then, the touch-screen watch works just fine.

His watch isn’t on the dresser, so he checks the nightstand and under and around the bed with little luck. Shiro sighs to himself–he’s the king of misplacing things, but he never fails to get frustrated with himself when forgetting where he put things, no matter how mundane they seem to be.

He checks the drawers in the dresser next, rummaging through his clothes with no success. The last place his watch would be is in the closet, but he checks there next anyway. He scans the floor where his and Keith’s shoes are kept, but he doesn’t see the watch. On top of the closet are a few boxes with miscellaneous accessories and clothing items that he and Keith barely wear–and although the spot does not look promising, he figures it’s worth checking out.

Shiro reaches up, extending his Altean arm to grab at one of the boxes, because even he isn’t tall enough to reach the top of the closet. He grabs the box and hoists it into his arms successfully. An inconvenience that he did not calculate, however, was tripping on one of his shoes on his way out of the closet.

The box goes flying, and Shiro _yelps_ right before he hits the floor. When he makes it to the ground, he actually lets out a laugh, because only he–a six-foot-one beefcake with a robotic arm–would be clumsy enough to trip over a single Nike running shoe.

With the contents of the box scattered across the bedroom floor, at least he can get a better look and see if his watch is among it’s the miscellaneous items.

His eyes immediately land on a small, unfamiliar black box. He picks it up first out of curiosity-it looks like a jewelry box?

He’s about to open it up when Keith bursts through the bedroom door.

“Shiro, are you okay?” Keith asks as his eyes scan the bedroom floor. “What happened?”

“I’m fine! I just tripped while pulling this box out of the closet, I’m looking for my watch.”

“Oh, you left it on the…” Keith’s voice trails off when he gets sight of the box in Shiro’s hand. His eyes go wide as he whispers out, “…coffee table.”

Useful information aside, Shiro wonders why Keith looks like a deer in headlights. 

“Keith?” Shiro asks, eyes moving from Keith to the box in his hand.

“Don’t open that,” Keith snaps. His voice is firm, but his eyes are soft and pleading.

“Why, what is it?” Shiro asks, turning the box around in his hands, as if it’s just another addition to their box of forgotten items.

“It’s nothing,” Keith answers and stalks over to Shiro. He holds his hand out, expecting Shiro to hand the box right over. He does, but only after a few moments of hesitation.

Shiro is naturally concerned, and the expression on his face must convey that. Keith is allowed secrets, of course he is, but the panic upon Keith’s face when he first noticed the box in Shiro’s hand has him worried. Keith takes the box and looks as if he’s about to turn away, but then he relaxes; his whole demeanor softens, and he joins Shiro on the floor, sitting on top of an old knit hat and a couple ugly ties that Shiro hasn’t worn since his early Garrison days.

“I was gonna wait until tonight, everything was supposed to be perfect.” Keith sighs and looks down at the box, which is held in a death-grip in his hands.

“What do you m-” Shiro starts, but Keith cuts him off.

“Shiro,” Keith interrupts. He opens the box, and shoves it towards Shiro, displaying a ring inside. It’s a simple gunmetal colored ring, with a few small black stones around its body, resembling something like onyx. “Will you marry me?”

Shiro doesn’t know what his face is doing, exactly. But he feels the heat in his stomach rise up into his cheeks. Is he shaking? Shiro thinks so. His mind races, playing Keith’s question, the one he already knows his answer to, again and again so he doesn’t forget it.

He realizes then, that Keith is looking at him mildly horrified; maybe he should answer now.

“Keith,” Shiro manages to spit out. He takes Keith’s free hand in his and scoots closer. “I love you, of course I’ll marry you.”

Shiro doesn’t give Keith a chance to say anything back, because he takes Keith’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s heated and messy and urgent–because Shiro has never felt like he’s needed Keith more or loved him more than in this moment. Keith kisses back with just as much fire.

Shiro doesn’t want to pull away, but he feels something wet on his cheek. Shiro still has Keith’s face cradled in his hands, and he notices the tears coming out of Keith’s eyes.

“Baby,” Shiro smiles and wipes at the tear slowly running down Keith’s cheek. “You don’t need to cry.”

“I know,” Keith laughs to himself. “I’m just happy.” Keith pulls away from Shiro’s grip and uses his free hand to wipe at the rest of his tears. When satisfied, he turns his attention back to Shiro and takes his left hand, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto his ring finger.

“I love it,” Shiro announces as he holds up his hand, as if to admire the way the gunmetal shines in the dim light of the room.

“I’m glad,” Keith says, and rests his hands on Shiro’s thy and he continues to admire the ring. “Fuck, I’m so sorry–I really had this whole thing planned. It involved me romancing you and _not_ crying like a baby.”

“Don’t apologize. This is the best birthday present ever. Besides, nothing with me and you ever goes according to plan,” Shiro says, lowering his hand to rest on top of Keith’s. “Why would this be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” Keith giggles and leans into Shiro, resting his head on his shoulder. He takes a deep breathe and lets the calm settle around both of them for a quiet moment. “Let’s clean this stuff up and then go for a jog.”

Keith goes to stand up, but Shiro wraps his arms around him and anchors him to his side.

“Wait, I’ve changed my mind,” Shiro says, and Keith gives him a questioning look, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t yet, though. Instead Shiro leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Keith’s shoulder. He kisses up Keith’s neck and across his jaw, and Keith hums, eyes fluttering shut. “Let’s go back to bed, fiancé,” Shiro says softly into Keith’s ear.

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith warns with very little strength. Shiro just smiles against Keith’s skin and then pulls him up from the cluttered floor.

Shiro convinces Keith to go back to bed (it doesn’t take much convincing).

After all, a day like this _is_ worth celebrating.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/emotabek) ll [Tumblr](http://emotabek.tumblr.com)


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